When is the Riddler not the Riddler?
by AwfulLawful
Summary: Batman requires the aid of his arguably his most annoying enemy to assist in preventing a horrendous crime. But this may turn out to be more difficult than he thought. Re-post of an old story that somehow got lost. Will not be continued.


The idea for this story has been going through my head off and on for about two years, but development didn't really start on it until after I played Arkham Asylum until the analog sticks fell off my controller. There is something infinitely amusing about the Riddler's role in it, because he somehow set up over two hundred insidious puzzles all over (and even under) the island. It is hilariously satisfying to go through the game and collect his trinkets and decipher his riddles one by one until he gets nearly frantic with disbelief over how many you've solved, insists you must be cheating and demands to know who's helping you in the manner of an angry child hopping up and down insisting that you aren't his real mom. He is simultaneously the least threatening and most irritating enemy in the game, as well as a constant source of comic relief and the developers must be applauded and praised with how well they portrayed him. If I knew any of them, I'd say they've earned applause.

The Riddler in this particular story is not precisely like any other, yet not unlike them either. You will find out more about him as you go along in the tale, and you have a problem with Alternate Universes in fanfics please keep in mind that DC is just as guilty as the rest of us. Watch Crisis on Two Earths and kindly shut up. And try not to fall in love with the Jester.

Being that I am a fan and have an unusual memory for quotes from the various media in which the Bat-menagerie of villains has appeared, I'll likely be using a lot of them since this is an alternate universe (as every incarnation of them is).

Warnings for mature sexual content, same-sex sex, rape and insanity are officially issued. If you have problems with these things you have been warned prior to the chapter's beginning and by continuing from this point forfeit your right to be offended.

Let me know what you think of their interaction. I want it to get better.

There will be riddles in the next chapter!

* * *

Fuck.

This was the very last thing he needed today. As if it weren't bad enough that he'd been manhandled by an overzealous orderly this morning (which was why he was currently strapped to the bed in his cell for 'unacceptable behavior', otherwise known as 'self-defense') now he had to deal with the Batman invading what little privacy he could lay claim to. Of course the doctors had to patch him up after he had defended himself against that orderly by giving the hulking brute a perfectly justified knee to the groin followed by an uppercut to the jaw and kick to the left kidney when he fell and the six orderlies nearby had decided to beat him senseless for a while, so he was currently dressed in the laughably ineffective hospital gown he'd been forced into after treatment and enough sedation to knock out Killer Crock. The blanket that had been tossed onto him before he was left hours ago was doing painfully little to preserve his modesty, not that he would have minded if it had been literally anyone else in the cell with him.

Courtesy was something nobody in Arkham from the cooks and janitors to the Doctors and Warden possessed in any measure, so being naked and having things done to your body you may not agree to was normal and something Nigma was rather accustomed to by now. Showering with thirty other men in an open room while guards watched your every move didn't exactly create the type of atmosphere in which one maintained a sense of reticence. It was only that something inside him recoiled in disgust at the thought of this man in particular seeing him in such a state and his skin was currently crawling.

Besides that it was just plain rude how the man had entered Nigma's personal cell without announcement. Nobody ever knocked before entering his room anymore. Not even Dr. Bartholomew. It was rather irritating.

And the man didn't even speak! "What! I must admit I'd be terribly disturbed if you came all this way just to stare at me!" he finally blurted after an uncomfortably long time of watching that creepy shadow with glowing white, perpetually pissed off eyes focused on him.

"You're coming with me, Nigma."

"Like hell I am." He quipped automatically. Oops. That was a reflex he needed to reign in.

"LISTEN." Batman barked just loud enough to make Nigma flinch. "The Scarecrow has hostages at the Gotham Museum. You were cellmates with the Scarecrow for three months, more than long enough to learn everything there is to know about his behavior and future plans. You can't help yourself. We both know you're familiar with what he's doing and you've already worked out how to stop him before he puts it into action, even if you never actually intended to. Now you are coming with me, and you are going to help me take him down."

"Why would I do that, I wonder?" For someone who wore a scowl like the latest fashion statement the Batman had an amazing array of facial twitches that indicated irritation. Or anger. Or consternation. Really, there were so many ways to describe the whole 'criminal scum are so far below me I can't even put it to words' look. The fact that Nigma could still cause that look even from his admittedly pathetic position made him feel the best he had all day.

Batman's eyes narrowed and he leaned in so close that Nigma could feel his breath. "Because I can have you put in solitary for a very long time if you don't."

Solitary?

SOLITARY!

Nigma's entire body tensed and he paled considerably. There was a greatly varied array of things he could tolerate after spending time in this rat infested (and by rats he meant the psychiatrists) testament to Gotham's uncanny ability to turn rational men into snarling beasts. Solitary was not one of them. Oh, sure there were times when he'd been put in there after being dragged through the front gate by the Batman for setting one or two mostly harmless riddles that any reasonably intelligent person could have escaped. After the first few experiences with it though, the doctors seemed to realize that putting a man with a mind as active as the average two year old and a compulsive need for attention in a completely stimulus free environment for a up to a week was very much a Bad Idea.

Nigma couldn't handle it at all and was usually in a state of pathetic weeping apologies and promises to behave by the end of half his stay. Shrieking himself hoarse until all he could do for the remainder of his torturous sojourn in the dark, silent nothingness was open his mouth in stark horror of the fact that he couldn't even beg anymore was not something he wanted to experience ever again. He hated the silence, the tedium and the lack of anything to distract his mind from things he would rather not dwell on. Hallucinations, nightmares and flashbacks became indistinguishable when the line between asleep and awake blurred while his panic and sense of abandonment sank deeper and deeper until, during his last journey into delirium, he had begun to tear out his hair and claw the skin off his arms just to have a sense of realism for a few precious moments.

Batman obviously had more power in Arkham than Nigma thought if he could get the doctors to do that to him again, knowing it would cause his mental state to get worse. It didn't even qualify as a punishment anymore. It was a complete, well, DICK MOVE. But it wasn't worth the risk if a little road trip and assistance was all that Batman wanted from him, so he tried to calm his already panicked gulping breaths and nodded.

"Fine! Alright, I'll- just tell me what you want me to do!"

"Good boy. " Batman nodded and immediately started to unbuckle the restraints. "Get dressed. We left yesterday. "

Feeling stung, Nigma put on his Asylum uniform and followed Batman down the hall toward the front gate. A few pleased grins and snickers from orderlies that had heard their little interlude made him turn pink with humiliation and rage, but he gulped down his pride for the moment with the threat of his own personal hell hanging over his head like the Sword of Damocles.

As they passed the cells in the 'Hall of Freaks' as it was called here, Harley gave him a big happy grin and shouted, "I know they're pretty, Eddie, but don't push any buttons!" Nigma's confused, "What?" as he followed her with his eyes was all the time it took for him to lose sight of the Bat and fail to realize he had stopped dead in the hall. He let out a startled grunt when he slammed into the brick wall of a man and fell back onto the floor on his ass.

"That's a good point. We'll have to discuss rules on behavior before you get into my car." As he said this he glared back at the blond, who 'eep'ed and retreated to her bed to hide under the blanket and her jester dolls. Instead of waiting for the other man to get up, Batman reached down and grasped his forearm with the intent to pull him up to his feet. Unfortunately he had grasped the same place that was currently forming a massive bruise after the episode this morning, and Nigma chocked out an urgent, "PLEASE!" halfway up.

Batman let go.

Clutching at his arm and quite certain he did not want any more 'help' getting up, Nigma scrambled to his feet and stated rather weakly, "I'll walk." He hadn't meant to beg like that. It was a humiliating, though automatic reaction to sudden dizzying levels of pain and something that couldn't be helped. Mostly because his pain medication had worn off in the last twenty minutes or so.

Their tense silence lasted only a second before Batman turned and continued walking, obviously expecting Nigma to follow. He passed the rest of Harley's cell just after catching her poke her head out from under the blanket to blow Batman a raspberry. Now that he wasn't the center of Batman's attention, at least as far as being faced with him directly, Nigma let his mind wander. As he walked quickly concocted a number of reasons why Harley would be advising him not to push any buttons and Batman directly referencing behavior in the car just after, and all of them ended in a possible crash. He felt a bit better and had to repress a smirk.

Kookiness aside, the girl was rather charming in her own bubble-headed way.

Outside was something he adored when he got to visit it and he made a point of looking around as they walked to the garishly overdone Batmobile. The see-saw with a bloodstain under the broken board called to him and he knelt down to pull up a hidden briefcase he'd hidden there months ago. Batman's command to stop where he was and put his hands behind his back merely made him chuckle. "You want me to help? I will. But I need my toys too and you know it."

"No tricks." Batman growled.

"Ah, but how can I resist? After all, I can't help myself, can I?" Batman was refreshingly silent while Nigma changed into his Riddler regalia behind the bushes. Once he stepped out , happily twirling his cane, the top was already open on the vehicle and Batman groused at him to get in.

Which he did, then smiled when the top was retracted and clicked into place. Batman withstood the smug staring for only an instant while he started the car before turning to glare at his passenger. "What?"

"You forgot to discuss the rules," Riddler chided, ticking his finger back and forth. The eyes narrowed a bit more, frustrated. This was beginning to get fun.

"Put on your seat belt. Now."

"Nice car." Riddler chirped as he did just that. "First time I've been in it while conscious."

"Don't touch anything."

"Certainly. I'm just wondering which one of these 'pretty buttons' Miss Quinn pushed to make you so angry with her. Did you crash?"

"QUIET." Batman ground out as the car glided out the gate at inhuman speeds.

The man drove like a damned roller-coaster. Riddler found himself gripping the armrests of his seat just to stay upright against the force of the razor sharp curves and paroxysmal speed changes as Batman weaved through traffic like a three legged gazelle with an inner ear problem and cosmically good luck for not getting hit. No wonder the man had made it a point to be sure Riddler had his seat belt on: he probably didn't have insurance on his passengers. Then again he probably didn't need it since he was basically driving a stylized miniature tank.

"I got it! She was looking for the radio, right?" he asked suddenly after a minute of silence he allowed to go on just long enough for the stoic man to believe he might actually obey.

Batman clicked open the glove compartment and shoved a megaminx duodecahedron puzzle into Riddler's gloved hand before going right back to driving in one smooth motion. He stared at the multicolored thing a moment, feeling slightly shocked and insulted. He wasn't a child, and giving him something to play with would not keep him from talking in the car despite the fact that his palm was positively burning where the colors were obscured from his vision and-

One minute and thirty six seconds later he twirled the completed puzzle in his hands with a flourish. "Switching two of the stickers is cheating, you realize? For shame, Batman. How long has this been in there, anyway? Do you have toys for the others as well or am I the special one? Or is this one of Robin's?"

Batman let out an irritated growl and resolved to ignore him.

This was going to be a VERY long drive.


End file.
